


you are the song

by loveyouallwrong (drunktuesdays)



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: F/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-23
Updated: 2010-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunktuesdays/pseuds/loveyouallwrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Taylors' first thanksgiving</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are the song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [k4writer02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/k4writer02/gifts).



The first Thanksgiving at the Taylor house--Tami has _not_ gotten used to calling it that, not even in the slightest--was a disaster.

Eric was at the game, where Tami _should_ be, but instead she's here, in this stupid, tiny kitchen with food splatters on the walls and pans bubbling everywhere. Her mama would be so upset with her. _She_ always had everything coming off the stove just as the boys stumbled in from the game, admonishing everyone to go wash their hands.

Tami, now, Tami is standing in front of a real life mayhem. There are dishes _everywhere_ , pots bubbling over, and she is right sure something is burning, but she'll be damned if she knows which one it is. She is no Mama, that's for sure.

"Well now," Tami's mother says later, when Tami tells her this story. "I had you and your sister to help. And a whole lot of practice."

Tami, she's got nobody. Nobody except her stupid _husband_ , who comes in all ruddy faced and tousled hair.

Eric, who looks around her, at the things sizzling, gurgling, or just plain burning, and he starts to chuckle.

When he starts, she can't quite decide whether she's going to hit him, or cry, or storm out. She considers doing all three, when he takes his hat off, clutches it to his chest, and lets out a belly laugh, shoulders shaking with the effort.

Inexplicably, she joins him, sinking to the floor and giggling with just a smidge of hysteria. She hears him moving around, flipping dials, and checking under covers, then he sits down next to her, sighing with the tail end of his laughter.

"What's the damage?”she asks, regaining her breath.

"What's that Chinese place we like so much, down by the school?" he answers, throwing his arm around her, and pulling her close.

"We need to have a baby girl," she sighs, scooting her knees over to rest against his.

"A stable of kids," he answers, "to cook, clean and wash the dog."

"And play football," Tami adds.

"And football," Eric agrees, and stands up, holding a hand out to pull her up.

The only thing salvageable is the turkey and potatoes, so Eric carves and Tami takes out the fragile little plates her Aunt Ava gave her at their wedding.

They skip the table, and settle on their ratty loveseat, with the afghan Eric's mother made him for college.

"Did you win?" Tami asks, setting her plate on the coffee table.

"Naw," Eric says, shaking his head. "Coach keeps playing that Rota kid for running back."

"Well honey," Tami says, "You gotta tell him about that freshman of yours if you want him to take notice of him _or_ you,"

"Next year," Eric says, and pops the cork on the bottle of wine he had at the ready.

"You can't distract me, mister," Tami says, watching him pour two glasses.

"Watch me," is all he says, with a mischievous smile, and leans forward for a kiss.


End file.
